


Homecoming

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [8]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: F/M, Fluff with depth, Front hall flirting, Honeymoon, Insatiable Newlyweds, Inspired by Music, Intimacy, Music room rendezvous, Resolved Sexual Tension, smexytimes, the study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from their honeymoon in Des Moines, Harold and Marian come home to their River City house for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

Harold and Marian Hill had been married for over a week before they stepped foot in their home together – but the music professor wasn't going to miss the chance to carry his beautiful bride over the threshold.

He hadn't bothered to do so when they'd arrived in the Des Moines hotel room where they'd spent their honeymoon, given that it wasn't their _real_ house, and also because he'd had no desire to make his bride any more nervous about their wedding night than she'd been already. But tonight, there was no reason not to uphold tradition, and after all of the months he'd spent dreaming about sharing this house with the woman he loved, Harold was determined to milk as much grandeur from the moment as he possibly could.

This proved to be a bit of a practical problem, as he had to push all of their luggage rather haphazardly into the doorway so none of their belongings would be left out in the cold December night, and, not without reason, the librarian was left staring at her husband in utter bafflement, clearly thinking that he might have gone slightly mad. Harold didn't keep her waiting long, however, and before she had the chance to ask the obvious question, he swept her right up into his arms.

"Why, Harold!" Marian exclaimed, blushing and laughing as she swatted playfully at his shoulders. "What if somebody sees?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "I think they'd forgive us, given the significance of this particular moment." He pulled her close and kissed her warmly as they took that all-important step and once again shut the door on the outside world. When he set her on her feet again, she shook her head and immediately went about smoothing her skirts, but Harold was pleased to see the irrepressible smile on her face.

With one arm wrapped around her shoulders, he gestured into the foyer with his best display of bandleader showiness, and proclaimed: "Our home, Mrs. Hill!"

"I've seen it before, Harold," Marian noted with a light laugh. "This part, at least. But I must admit – it's strange to think of it as _mine_ as much as yours."

Indeed, despite her jovial mood, her feelings of awkwardness became clear as she removed her coat and gloves and stood clutching them in clenched hands as if she were waiting for permission to put them away, or at least some sort of guidance from him as to where they ought to go now that she was no longer a guest in this house.

Hoping to put her at ease, Harold took her coat from her hands and, with a certain sense of satisfaction, hung it in the closet where it would remain.

"There. A place reserved for the lady of the house," he teased, dropping a light kiss to the nape of her neck.

Marian giggled happily, leaning back against him and giving his hand a squeeze. "It sounds nice to call me that, but I'm not quite sure what to _do_."

Truthfully, the new situation felt a little odd, even for Harold – there was no established precedent for what they would do now, no silent understanding that she'd pick up a book and he'd go off to study his sheet music, or something of that sort.

But then, this wasn't a routine evening, either. He was bringing Marian into a house where she not only had not lived before, but where there were still entire rooms that she'd never laid eyes on, and he wasn't sure what kind of protocol should be followed here. On the train ride home, he'd anticipated immediately sweeping her upstairs to their bedroom as soon as he got the chance – the idea of finally being with her in their own bed was nearly as thrilling as if it had been their wedding night all over again – but, as tonight was not _actually_ their wedding night, he figured that they could muster up enough patience to get her properly settled in first.

Fortunately, Harold was almost as excited simply to show his beloved her house at last, because he'd considered all of the work that he'd done here to be the greatest wedding present of all. He'd showered her with little things in Des Moines – books, a necklace, a few lacy little nightdresses that he'd enjoyed at least as much as she had – but waiting in this house were the surprises that were much too big to wrap up and tie with a bow.

As they wandered a little aimlessly away from the front entrance, Harold was just about to take the lead and guide her down the hall to the room where her greatest surprise lay in wait, but her perplexed expression gave him pause. She seemed as if she were trying to make a decision, so he watched her patiently and waited for her to explain herself.

Casting her eyes over his shoulder into the kitchen and then raising them to his, the librarian pressed her fingertips together with a curt little nod. "Maybe I should make tea? Would that be all right?"

She looked so supplicating that Harold couldn't help but grin – she really hadn't been exaggerating when she'd mentioned feeling like a guest! "If you want to make tea, you're welcome to it, darling. You _live_ here."

Laughing a little, she nodded. "Right. Right. Anyway, I don't think I'll do that now," she said dismissively. At that, she strolled past him into the parlor, looking at it with wide, searching eyes, and a hesitant smile broke across her face.

The house was, admittedly, in a state of some disarray considering the change in occupancy – in addition to the boxes of Marian's clothes, books and other possessions that Mrs. Paroo had brought over while the Hills were away, there were also new items such as the sets of gleaming china and silverware from their wedding that had yet to find a permanent place of honor.

"The house isn't in its finest condition right now," Harold rushed to tell her before she could pass judgement on him. "Too many things piled in some places, too few in others. We'll have to work that out over the coming weeks."

"Maybe it's a little sparse, but I like it. It feels clean." She ran her hand up and down one of the forest-green curtains in clear approval of the rich fabric.

"It doesn't have to stay quite as bare as it is, though. I don't exactly have an eye for decoration, and I was hoping that you would help provide the finishing touches on these rooms. I believe a more feminine eye is considered best for such tasks."

"I'd love to help with that!" Then she paused a moment with her mouth half-open, as though her thoughts had been abruptly interrupted by another realization. "Although, before we deal with the more permanent features, perhaps we ought to decorate for Christmas this weekend. It might even be a little overdue, considering that we've not been around for a week."

"I did buy some Christmas decorations, just to have them ready, but we could look for some more together."

Marian strolled around the room, her eyes darting everywhere, and Harold wondered if she was trying to figure out where they ought to put their tree. "It's strange, the idea of decorating for Christmas with all new things when I've been helping to hang the same ornaments on the tree for my entire life!" she mused.

"Well, traditions don't start as traditions, right? Somebody has to start them," Harold reasoned.

The librarian's lovely face lit up as she returned to his side. "Mama did say she was going to give me a few of her ornaments for my own, now that I think of it. It could help me feel a little more settled, to have some old things along with the new."

The idea of those decorations being passed down into their new family sent a rush of gratitude through the music professor's heart. "I never imagined having anything like that – God knows that I have no heirlooms from my family," he reflected, his voice growing quiet with emotion. "That's wonderful of your mother to do that for us."

"It truly is," Marian agreed softly. She drew closer to him then, placing a warm hand on his shoulder in reassurance, tracing light little circles along his upper arm. "But, my goodness, looking at everything you've done in this house – that was wonderful of _you_. We might not have old things, but all of the new things that we have are thanks to you!"

At that, Harold felt a resurgence of his pride, and all at once he remembered his purpose. Enfolding her hands in her own, he began to lead his wife back toward the hallway, and he flashed her his trademark charming grin.

"If you think this room is nice, well, there's plenty of our house that you haven't even seen yet – nobody has, except me. And I've been dying to show it to you. Are you ready for – " he flung out his hand in another showy gesture, making her roll her eyes with a laugh " – the grand tour?"

She nodded. "I'd like very much to know what you've done with this great big house in such a short time – especially if _you're_ so excited to show me!"

Harold pulled her along with him a little more quickly than was necessary, stopping at the closed door that was just beyond the kitchen and washroom. It wasn't a door that actually needed to be kept shut, but he'd been keeping it so for months so he didn't accidentally leave it open for Marian to see on the few occasions that she'd visited here before. Now opening the door in front of her felt like a momentous sort of ceremony, and he found himself rambling a little as he tried to bask in this significance.

"Now, think of this – those times you and your family came over for dinner, you were sitting just a few feet away from my most exciting project, and you didn't even know it. It was almost as bad as having the ring in my pocket and waiting to propose to you!" he exclaimed. "I could barely stand it, not showing you this before, but I wanted to give you all your big surprises at once. Besides, it wasn't even really finished until the week before the wedding, and at that point– "

"Darling," the librarian laughed in mild exasperation, laying a hand over his on the doorknob. "If you're so eager, why are you making me wait even longer? I want to see what's in there!"

"Right." Harold had to laugh at himself a little, realizing that his natural desire for pomp and circumstance was getting the better of him tonight. Without further ado, he swung the door open and determined to say no more, knowing that the room would speak for itself quite well. The music professor realized too late that the room was mostly in shadow due to the vanishing winter sunlight, though, and he hurried into the room to turn up the light before finally turning back to watch her long-awaited reaction.

As he'd hoped, Marian broke into a gasp almost immediately, stepping into her music room with her hand pressed to her face in joyous disbelief. Though her eyes took in everything for a few frenzied moments, she was drawn helplessly toward the room's, maybe even the _house's_ , most wonderful feature – the gleaming, upright mahogany piano with the green-cushioned seat before it.

"Harold, you _shouldn't_ have," she cried, dropping onto the seat like she could barely keep herself steady.

"How could I not? If our house had to have anything, it had to have a piano. What kind of house would it be for you if it didn't?"

"I assumed that it would be too great an expense," Marian explained, her eyes almost welling up with delight. "It did make me a little sad to think I'd be moving to a house without a piano, but I figured that we'd get one someday. Just the fact that you bought me this house was more than enough for me, and I wouldn't have dreamed of asking for anything more."

"You didn't ask, sweetheart. I did it because I wanted to," he assured her. "Go on – try it."

The librarian nodded, letting out a shaky little breath, and turned around so she could face the piano properly. For the first few moments, she seemed almost afraid to touch it; Harold watched with bated breath, as spellbound by her as she was by the piano. Then, at last, her fingers floated across the keys. They were wavering a little with her excitement, and yet she still managed to produce a few bars of something more beautiful than Harold ever could have played even with all of his effort and concentration.

"I think the piano's relieved that it's finally found somebody who can play it properly," he joked, sliding onto the bench next to her so he could watch her experiment with her new instrument.

"It could have done better than me, I guess," Marian demurred with a self-deprecating laugh as she tried out a few arpeggios.

"No need to be so modest," he chided. "I may not be the most-qualified judge of these matters, but I've never heard anybody play as beautifully as you do."

She shook her head, a pleasant blush spreading across her cheeks. "Oh, Harold, how you flatter me! Now I'll be terribly embarrassed."

Still, his wife was not dissuaded from her desire to try out her piano. After closing her eyes for a few moments in concentration, she opened them, sat up straight, and began to play.

Harold still didn't have a solid enough knowledge of classical music to name the song, but he'd heard her play this piece sometime before, something gentle and stirring and hopeful with notes flowing up and down as smooth as water. It amazed him to watch her play – there were such subtle complexities in the way her fingers depressed certain keys with more or less force, in the way that one hand could dart quickly to the side to bring out some high or low note and then slide back into place in time to continue the pulse of the melody uninterrupted, even in the look on her beautiful face that was somehow a combination of deep concentration and peace. There was a special kind of artistry in a single performer creating such rich music, he thought, and it awed him that his wife could do this so easily, almost without thinking about it – or, at least, she made it look easy.

As her music built higher and higher and then trailed off in a delicate decrescendo, Marian seemed to notice at last how intently he'd been watching her, and she turned her head to him with an expression of surprise that soon turned to repressed laughter. Harold realized that he must have looked foolish, staring at her like some besotted schoolboy, and he quickly sat up straight and cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't just sit and watch you like this. I'll leave you be."

But as he stood up, she surprised him by reaching up to grab his hand before he could get very far. "You're going? Well, what about the rest of the house?"

Harold shrugged. "I thought you'd be quite happy staying here."

"Under different circumstances, I'd stay, but you have more to show me, don't you?" Marian rose off the bench to join him, gazing down at their entwined fingers a little shyly. "I don't really feel like being alone right now, anyway – I'm still so happy to be here with _you_."

Harold laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, still self-conscious over his graceless gawking. "So am I, if you couldn't tell."

Sensing his discomfort, Marian kissed his hand and then nuzzled her head against his shoulder. "It was _sweet_ , darling. I rather appreciated it, actually. I've wanted somebody to look at me the way you do for my entire life – how could I resent it now?"

All the music professor wanted in that moment was to kiss his wife over and over and tell her a million times how much he loved her, to do whatever he could to make her forget any doubts she'd ever experienced, but he knew very well that if he did that, they'd end up making their way upstairs for a reason quite different than touring the rooms there. He instead satisfied himself with a single long, deep kiss that promised much more to come and left her clinging to him, her eyes full of dreamy longing.

"Ready to head upstairs, sweetheart?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a few soft curls away from her forehead.

Marian gave him a smile that bespoke perfect, calm contentment. "Whatever you have in mind, I'll follow you."

xxx

Briefly, Harold showed her the upstairs washroom and the linen closet just so she'd know where they were, but he couldn't help stopping before the next room that he was truly proud of. He knew there was no need, yet his salesman's instincts urged him to say _something_ to indicate that this room was special.

Clearing his throat, the music professor clapped his hands together. "I don't think anything I show you now will live up to the piano, but I hope you'll be happy with what I've done here anyway – "

"No more speeches, please, dear," Marian admonished, and to stop him from speaking anymore, she leaned up and captured his lips with her own for one lovely moment before pulling back, her face alight with mischief.

"If that's what you do to get me to shut my mouth, I don't know if I'll be so eager to give up the transgression," he murmured, tilting her lovely face toward his and pulled her back for a longer, more thorough kiss.

After they parted, Marian tapped a finger against his chest in a halfhearted sort of scolding. "And if you keep up the kissing, I'll never get to see this room! Don't feel the need to apologize for it – piano or no, I'm sure I'll love it."

She was right, of course – he couldn't fill every room with pianos, and it wasn't as though this room didn't contain a whole other set of things that would delight her. "After you, then," said Harold, gesturing into the richly furnished room.

He followed right behind her, and it overjoyed him to see that this room did, in fact, please her as much as the music room had. "Oh, goodness," Marian exclaimed, her eyes growing enormous once again and her breath coming out in a long, trembling exhalation. "You made me a library of my own?"

"I call it a study," Harold admitted. "A library would be wall-to-wall with books, after all – there'd have to be more than three shelves! But I thought that the only room in this house besides the parlor with a fireplace would make a fine place for reading."

Though she gazed fondly at the books, the librarian seemed almost equally enthralled with the shelves that remained empty. "All this space! And to think that before, I was beginning to wedge books in sideways simply to fit them all in… Oh, it's simply perfect," she sighed, walking toward the tall, sturdy shelves to examine them more closely. "Are these all my books? From home? – I mean, from Mama's house?"

"Those particular books are still boxed up, but the majority of the books that you see there _are_ yours. They're just new."

"New?" She pulled a few books at random, examining the titles with incredulous eyes before turning that startled gaze back to him. "But, Harold, how did you _know_?"

"Your mother was more than willing to work as a spy on my behalf," Harold said, laughing. "She told me what books you already had, and I worked from there."

For a brief moment, a look of chagrin flickered over Marian's face – but, for whatever reason, she seemed to push her concern away as quickly as it had come, and she smiled, if a bit uneasily.

"So Mama was in on this secret, too? I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for _both_ of you to keep quiet about such an exciting plan!"

"As you can imagine, she was thrilled to be able to contribute to her daughter's happiness in her new home. Really, I think she would have taken over the furnishing of the entire house if I'd given her a chance, so I'm sure that any opportunity to help me out was very welcome – even though she must have been disappointed that I didn't give her the freedom to decorate our entire house in extravagant Victorian décor!"

"That sounds just like Mama," Marian giggled. "Of course, I think that this particular room is a tad more Victorian than any of the others you've shown me, so Mama will certainly approve." She let her fingers trace the gold-embroidered patterns on the deep brown fabric of the sofa as she spoke, as if to highlight her observation.

"I thought a study ought to be a little old-fashioned," said Harold. "It makes it seem more serious, and somehow more cozy, too. That's what a study is, isn't it, or a library? A serious-yet-comfortable sort of place. Besides, I had to make some concession to the sort of style that you'd grown up with all your life!"

As Marian sat down on the sofa, Harold noticed with concern that her demeanor had suddenly grown rather anxious; she sat right on the edge of the cushion, not making any attempt to get comfortable, and stared across the room with a distant look in her eyes, seemingly fighting against some inner conflict.

Just before the music professor had a chance to ask her what the matter was, she turned to him again. "Harold – do _you_ like it?"

He let out a short, bewildered laugh, studying her slightly pensive expression in an attempt to understand why she'd ask such a question. "Of course I like it – I'm the one who made it this way, after all."

"No, but – " She let out a frustrated little puff of air, then pressed her lips together as if she were thinking hard about how to articulate herself. "I wasn't expecting this, you know. I would have been happy with the barest necessities, if that's what you'd chosen to do."

Harold sat down beside her on the couch, stroking a hand across her back in reassurance, and tried to coax her to relax her posture as well as her mind. "You think I'd marry you and bring you into a big, empty house? I had a lot of fun dreaming up the kind of place you'd love to live and then making this house that place, actually."

"I just can't believe you'd do something so wonderful for me," she exclaimed, her voice shaking. "First the music room, and now my own library – no matter what you call it! Oh, you have to understand that for years now, I'd come to accept that I'd live in Mama's house for my entire life. I didn't really think there was any possibility of me having my own house. And here you've given me this, and it's _perfect_. But there's nothing I could do for you that equals this. I don't even know how I ever could." She was still smiling, but she now looked more apologetic than pleased.

"You married me, for one thing," Harold was quick to remind her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and kissing her cheek. "You gave your whole life, heart and soul to me. I'd think that counts for something."

She shook her head with a short, rueful laugh. "You say that as if you haven't done the exact same for me. Oh, I suppose that because you're the husband and I'm the wife, this is just the way that things are… but it doesn't seem fair to you."

The former con man thought he understood exactly the sort of feeling she was getting at – nearly every day for the past four months since the fateful change of his life, he felt that there was really no contribution he could ever make to River City life that would make him worthy of the townsfolk's friendship, respect, and decision not to run him out of town when he'd so richly deserved it. Of course, Marian had done nothing at all to make her undeserving of what he'd given her, no matter what she might have thought. Perhaps her pragmatic mind was distressed by the expenses he'd gone to, as she'd said downstairs?

"Darling, you needn't worry that I've done more than I could afford," he assured her. "Ever since business at the Emporium really took off, I've been receiving quite a steady flow of profit – enough for us both to live very comfortably. But before that, when I came to River City, I had money with me already, money that I had no right at all to have. I'm certainly no worse off now that it's spent."

"I understand, but it isn't just the money," Marian insisted. "I can't help feeling guilty that this house isn't the way that you'd have made it for yourself, if you hadn't been thinking of _me_ so much."

"Well, I did it for you, but that doesn't mean that I won't use these rooms as well. I am a bandleader, after all, and a room devoted to instruments and music is very useful for me. And just because you're the librarian in the family, doesn't mean that I don't read as well! It's not as if I built you a palace to live in by yourself."

Marian smiled and squeezed his hands. "Which is good, because I don't want to live anywhere without you."

Hearing her express her devotion so simply and beautifully sent a surge of powerful emotion through him, and he knew at last how to explain so she would understand. "And, that, my dear, is exactly why I did all this for you. Or, rather – not for me, not for you, but for _us_. I didn't buy this house to be a lonely bachelor's place, and I never had the slightest interest in furnishing it just for myself."

The librarian seemed pleased, yet she let out a bemused little laugh, shaking her head in mild disbelief. "But you moved in here back in August. Surely you weren't ready to think of us as a married couple just yet?"

It rather shocked Harold that she could even think that possible – but he surmised that she had been so fixated at that time on not pressuring or pushing him into marriage, so careful not to raise her hopes too high, that she'd convinced herself that he hadn't even been entertaining such thoughts when, in fact, he always had. "We weren't ready to _be_ married yet, no, but I knew that that was the future that I wanted with you. Do you think I was anything less than certain about you from the moment that I chose to stay here in River City? In that moment, even though making that decision was going to cost me everything that I'd ever known, I realized that there was nothing worthwhile in the world for me if I couldn't be with you. I resolved, then and there, that I would gladly devote my life to you, to what we could build together… and that resolve only grew stronger in the weeks and months that followed." He made sure to look her right in her trusting eyes as he spoke, stroking her palm gently with his thumb. "This was _always_ going to be our house, Marian. There was never any other possibility. Every single thing I've done in this town has been for you, for us."

Now Marian lit up with that heart-meltingly sincere smile, looking at him like he was too good to be true – and, unsurprisingly, that gaze stirred similar feelings in himself. "I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful – I'm just not used to being _given_ so much. I didn't want to be selfish, you see."

"I've never seen you be selfish in anything, Madam Librarian. You don't need to do anything to prove that to me. You provided for your mother and brother for years while I was out cheating and stealing for a living; if anybody has to prove he's not selfish, it's me. _Not_ that I did this to prove anything, or for any reason other than that I wanted to do it." He gently clasped her small hands in his own. "You never expected a thing in return for all the money and work you gave to your Mama and Winthrop, now, did you?"

As he'd expected, her eyes widened in shock at the very idea. "Of _course_ not."

"So then you already know how this kind of thing works – in fact, it's a lot less new to you than it is to me. I'm not expecting some kind of a trade here, dear. I just wanted to make the woman I love happy, that's all." Smoothing a lock of hair back behind her ear, he kissed her forehead and then her cheek, and he smiled when his caresses elicited a little sigh from his dear wife. "And as I've said, there's certainly still ample room for you to help me with the furnishings. I mean, there are still a couple extra rooms down the hall that I couldn't figure out what to do with in the least. Of course, someday – " Realizing what he was about to suggest, Harold swallowed his words before he had the chance to say something too blunt, not wanting to push such matters when they'd barely even had a chance to get used to being husband and wife. "Someday I imagine we might be grateful for the extra space," he finished with a sheepish smile.

"It's a good thing that we have such a spacious house, then," she answered, biting her lip and flushing pink to the tips of her ears.

Though he still feared stirring up any thoughts that would mar the carefree bliss of their honeymoon, Harold had to make sure that she was fully aware of the deep and earnest consideration that he'd given to their future. "That was most definitely on my mind when I chose this house for us," he told her.

Marian said nothing more on the subject, but the joy she felt seemed to radiate from her face, and Harold knew then that he'd said exactly the right thing. "Show me another room?" she asked, her full lips curving sweetly upward. "I promise not to make any more trouble."

She was really too adorable, he thought – with a sudden, playful tug on her waist, Harold pulled his love into his arms, kissing and tickling her neck until she was giggling and squirming helplessly in his embrace. "It _is_ so very difficult to keep you out of trouble, Miss Marian. I'll have to keep a close eye on you at all times."

"Oh, stop it!" she gasped through her delighted laughter, wriggling away from him until she held onto only his hand, which she used to pull him up to his feet. "Come, now - you must have another finished room that I've not seen yet!"

Harold rose to join her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against his body so he could look her right in the eyes with the smoldering gaze that he knew would melt her. "As a matter of fact, I do. There is a room I've been saving for last – because I'm guessing that, no matter how good our intentions, we're going to want to linger there for a good, long while."

An even deeper blush bloomed across her cheeks, though it thrilled him to see obvious anticipation in her eyes. But even when he had her so thoroughly flustered, Marian still had the presence of mind to tease him. "You never showed me the laundry room, but I suspect that's not where you mean."

"No, it's certainly not. Follow me." With a laugh, he tugged her by the hand into the hallway, where that inviting room lay waiting only a few strides away.

What Harold really wanted was to sweep his bride up into his arms and carry her straight to the bed where he'd been so lonely without her all of these months – but he had to keep in mind that he actually did want her to _see_ the room, at least for a minute or so. To that end, he tried to keep his hands off her, lest temptation prove too great; he even dropped her hand from his own as they stepped into the room.

He observed her expression as she examined her surroundings, and the professor assumed that she must have been taking in how different the room was from the only other room they'd shared – unlike their hotel room, which had been dominated by deep, rich colors that connoted the sort of wealth and luxury that might have been too opulent to live with in daily life, this room was bright and airy, decorated in lighter woods along with blues and whites that had reminded him of several of the outfits that she seemed to favor.

"I wanted to create a room that reflected your tastes – that reminded me of you," he explained. "Well, you know that I did that in all of my decorating, but I especially wanted to create a bedroom that would please you. One does spend a great amount of time in one's bedroom, of course."

Harold had honestly intended nothing suggestive by that statement, but he recognized the double meaning as soon as the words had left his mouth – and, clearly, from the impish tilt of her head and the gleam in her bright hazel eyes, so did the librarian.

Not long before, Marian had admitted that she felt nervous and out-of-place in her new home, and every aspect of her bearing had revealed that uncertainty. But, whether it was driven by a desire to subtly seduce him or if she'd finally overcome her insecurity for some other reason, his wife sat right down at the vanity – where, as another small gift, Harold had set out a couple bottles of her favorite perfumes, the scents of which he'd learned to love over the past five months – as if she'd lived in this room all her life, and began slipping the pins out of her hair and unlacing her boots with casual serenity. Though she was seated right in front of it, she didn't bother to use the vanity mirror, instead sitting turned toward him as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes.

"Before our honeymoon, I'd never spent _so_ much time in a bedroom," Marian remarked as the hairpins dropped from her hand onto the vanity with a series of little _clinks_ , and though she blushed as she spoke the words, she was also gazing at him with undisguised longing. "I now have a much greater appreciation for them."

The music professor grinned, his ego a little puffed-up as he reflected on how he'd been personally responsible for instilling that appreciation. "And what do you think of this one?"

She leaned forward with her hair spilling down around her shoulders, an enigmatic smile lighting her face. "It's beautiful, just beautiful. That lovely blue, like the sky, makes everything seem so spacious and open, yet it's still the kind of place where I could fall asleep cozily." With the subtle crinkling of her nose, Marian's expression turned a touch mischievous. "But, of course, I can't comment on how comfortable the bed is yet."

It was as forward of a request as his new wife had been brave enough to make over the past week of their fledgling marriage, and, though he knew it very well by now, Harold still felt a glorious thrill run through him at this proof that she wanted him, that his intense desire for her was neither unwelcome nor unreciprocated. As he stood up and closed the distance between them, he saw her body subtly respond in the ways that he already knew meant that she was aching for his touch in the same way that he ached for hers – her cheeks pink and eyes dark with passion, her lips parted ever so slightly, her bosom rising and falling quickly with her shorter breaths.

Though there wasn't much room for him there, he slid onto the vanity stool beside her and then swung her legs over his, slowly gathering her up into his arms as he spoke, his voice low and smooth with desire. "I bought the finest one I could find, and I've slept very well in it – yet I suspect that your presence in it will improve its appeal enormously. Shall we try it out?"

Joyously, his little librarian breathed her approval in his ear and wound herself into his embrace, and, as he carried her the few short steps from the vanity to the bed, Harold was happy to lose himself to the heady bliss of sensation: her curls brushing his face, her fingers stroking his shoulders and neck, her body warm and wanting in his arms… On their first nights together, he'd been quick to learn that with Marian, every time they made love was a revelation, and that no level of familiarity between them could diminish the sheer wonder and passion that he felt in her embrace. Every time they touched like this, he hungered for more as if it were the first time he'd ever had the incredible fortune to take her in his arms – she made him insatiable.

Although they had never used this particular bed for this purpose before, the newlyweds tumbled together onto the comforter as naturally as they had every night in their hotel room. After all of the hesitancy that she'd displayed about feeling at home in the house, it was more than a little surprising to Harold that Marian felt so much more relaxed here – _here_ , where they were planning to engage in the sort of activities that were much, much newer to her than making tea or sitting down with a book! Perhaps it was because they'd already gotten used to living in a room about this size during their honeymoon, or perhaps the enormity of their passion was enough to make her forget all else; probably it was a bit of both. But Harold suspected that, once they'd shared this kind of extraordinary intimacy in their home, his wife would no longer have any qualms about using the other rooms as she saw fit.

As he laid her down gently on their bed, the music professor realized that, even though they were both still fully-clothed for the moment, his long-held fantasies were on the verge of unfolding before his eyes, and he found that he had to draw in a deep breath to steady himself against the deluge of images that flooded his mind – month after month spent imagining her golden hair and ivory skin against this powder-blue bedspread, imagining her clothes and his scattered carelessly across this floor, and all the times he'd moaned her name into the hollow emptiness of this room even while _her_ breathless cries of ecstasy had existed only in his imagination…

Admittedly, Harold had initially felt the slightest strike of guilt to his newfound conscience when he'd lost himself to those fevered, erotic fantasies, wondering if it wasn't altogether gentlemanly to revel in such unabashed lust for one who was still so innocent. Not that he could stop himself even if he'd wanted to – he'd never wanted any woman half as much as he'd wanted Marian, and he figured that even a gentleman could be permitted to look forward to the pleasure he'd have with his lady _after_ they were married. Still, there had always been that nagging doubt that he was somehow betraying her, that she'd have been hurt and repulsed if she'd known the kind of thoughts her beau was harboring about her (and _certainly_ if she'd known the sort of thing that those thoughts inspired him to do!). But, when the time had come for them to be together, Marian had given her whole self to him with such passion and enthusiasm that he knew for sure that, in her own way, she'd wanted him just as much all along. Maybe she'd lacked the kind of knowledge and confidence in her burgeoning desires that would allow her to embrace or fully realize them, but Harold strongly suspected that she'd gone to bed quite a few times at least _wishing_ that he could slip beneath the sheets beside her, even if her imagination could provide no further detail.

"So, what do you think about the bed? Does it suit you?" he murmured huskily into her ear between fevered kisses to her neck, his hands sliding down the front of her blouse and working the buttons free.

His dear librarian writhed happily against him, giggling even through her heightened breathing. "Oh, it's wonderful," she gasped as she wrapped a leg over his hip, and Harold could tell from this ardent response and the way that she pressed insistently closer that she wasn't merely answering the question that he'd asked aloud. Shortly afterwards, they managed to free each other from their shirts at almost the same moment, both of them flinging the offending garments right over the edge of the bed, and they shared a brief, amused smile over this before the music professor went eagerly to work on getting her out of that pesky corset.

Much like he had on their wedding night, Harold found himself repeatedly stunned by the fact that all of this was really happening – even though they'd made love passionately and frequently in the past week, his sense of awe was heightened by the simple fact that they were _here_ , together, on their own marital bed. Their honeymoon had felt in some ways like a cozy, insular dream taking place in another world entirely, but now he was going to make love to Marian in River City, in the house that was all their own. In a couple of days she'd be back at work at the library and he'd be minding the Emporium and leading rehearsals again, and nothing yet _everything_ would be different – because they'd come back home here together afterward, have dinner and talk about their days and laugh together on the couch and then make love until they fell asleep, and they'd be fully within their rights to do all of that. This was their life now, and it was exactly as he'd dreamed it would be. As he reflected on how completely they belonged to one another now – and how elated that made him – the music professor found himself meeting his lovely wife's lips with almost-desperate passion, holding her even closer in his embrace, relishing every little gasp and sigh of delight that his caresses could elicit, every exquisite response of her body.

Then he was abruptly jolted out of this sweet euphoria when, as if she'd suddenly remembered something, Marian lightly pushed back on his face to halt his kisses. Harold was briefly dismayed at this interruption – _Had he done something to overwhelm or frighten her?_ – but the smile on her face and amused twinkle in her eyes swiftly put him at ease.

Even as she spoke, she continued to caress him, her fingertips brushing tantalizingly over his bare chest and driving him wild. "You know, I was thinking – well, not _presently_ , but before. You said that you've bought everything in this house with me in mind. And you must have had to buy the bed as one of the first things – before you could even move in. You could hardly live here without a place to sleep."

The professor stared blankly down at her, too wound up to comprehend why she'd chosen this moment to bring up such a seemingly mundane matter, and more than a little impatient to resume their canoodling. "Well, yes, that's true. What does that – "

Immediately, she covered his mouth with her fingertips to keep him from talking any more, determined to make her point. "Then you bought the bed with me in mind, too? All the way back in the summer, you bought this bed for us to share?" There was a charming mix of flirtation and shyness in her inquiry, and it made responding to her question difficult seeing as it made him ache to kiss her even more.

To satisfy at least part of that urge, Harold kissed each of her fingers in turn before removing them from his lips. "Oh, of course," he assured her. "From my very first night in this bed, I imagined how I would sleep here with you in my arms –"

Now Marian smiled brilliantly, her fingers sliding up his neck to weave into his hair. "Only _sleep_? I'm sure that's not all you imagined," she interjected, blushing yet clearly pleased with her newly-developed knowledge of his carnal nature.

"No, not even close," Harold admitted, as delighted at being caught as she was to catch him.

Despite all her teasing, his dear little librarian looked at him now with utter, unguarded sincerity in her loving gaze. "Well – you won't have to imagine anymore, will you?"

There was no point in answering – his lips finding hers said so much more than any response he could have made.

xxx

As he stirred from his blissful winter-evening doze, Harold reached out to gather Marian close to him so he could kiss her all over and let his hands roam over those already-familiar curves, as he'd become so accustomed to doing upon waking during the past week – and was startled entirely awake when he realized that his arms had found only blankets.

For a brief moment, he wondered, a bit absurdly, if he'd just awakened from an extraordinarily vivid dream of their entire honeymoon and what had followed after, and if in reality their wedding was still days away – but a few undeniable facts quickly disproved that suspicion. For one thing, he was laying in a bed that was rumpled and disheveled in a way that could only indicate that their recent lovemaking had been quite real. In addition, there were soft sounds coming from somewhere downstairs, so he was clearly not alone in the house.

What made him smile most of all, though, was what he saw on the rocking chair opposite the bed – their two sets of clothing, neatly folded, with shoes lined up on the floor below. Harold _certainly_ didn't remember doing that. As a matter of fact, the last time he'd seen those clothes, he and Marian had been concentrating on how to get out of them as quickly as possible, and they hadn't given a thought to where they'd ended up after that. So, his wife's first impulse upon waking up had been to make sure that their room was spotless – rather unsurprising, considering her nature.

This was a habit he'd become quite familiar with during their honeymoon, but seeing those stacks of clothing in their own room warmed his heart. Admittedly, he felt a little guilty over the work she'd done, too – from now on, he supposed he ought to make sure that their clothes at least landed _somewhere_ where they wouldn't be too hard to gather up.

After he'd managed to make himself decent in a pair of pajamas and his warmest bathrobe that wasn't still packed up, Harold headed downstairs to see what Marian was doing. Although he didn't want to disturb her, he was rather curious to know what activity she'd finally felt comfortable enough to pursue.

The sound of a whistling teakettle and clinking cups led him to the kitchen, where Marian, looking delectably disheveled in a pale pink nightdress, had obviously yielded to her earlier longing for tea. Though the music professor walked into the kitchen softly, content to observe her from afar for a few moments, his wife seemed to sense his presence almost immediately. When she caught sight of him, she smiled and turned to remove another teacup from the cabinet.

"Do – do you want tea? I was going to bring it up to you, but now that you're here – "

Coming right up behind Marian, Harold wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a light kiss on her shoulder. He noticed that her hair smelled especially luscious and was ever so slightly damp, and it surprised him that he'd slept long enough to give her time both to bathe and to dry off almost completely.

"Tea sounds perfect," he said. "I take it that you feel entirely at home here now, Mrs. Hill?"

"I don't believe I'd be making tea in my dressing gown if I didn't," she said with a giggle as she carefully poured the hot beverage into the cups and stirred in sugar.

"I had suspected that you wouldn't do that just anywhere," Harold teased, running his fingers up and down the silk-smooth skin of her arm.

Marian melted happily even at such a feather-light touch, and she turned to him with a beaming smile, standing tiptoe on slipper-clad feet to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Do you want to join me in the parlor?" she asked when their eyes met again.

Harold grinned with a tap of his finger to _her_ nose and then picked up the teacups, pleased to see that she now felt that such an offer could be hers to give. "Absolutely."

xxx

Sitting side by side on the couch, the newlyweds passed the next few minutes in the most pleasant, relaxed conversation that they'd shared since coming home. Though Marian did keep stumbling over her pronouns here and there when it came to whose house this was, she was quick to correct herself, and, judging from the way that she reclined cozily in his arms while they talked, her slip-ups were more out of habit than any lingering discomfort.

Their conversation came to a sudden halt after Harold happened to mention the set of cookbooks that Mrs. Paroo had bought him a few months ago, however – Marian shifted in her seat suddenly and sat up at attention.

"Darling, I did discover… a bit of a problem." She clicked her nails against her teacup, looking a tiny bit guilty for even bringing up this concern. "I don't know how this didn't occur to me before, but you – um, we – don't have anything to eat! Nothing that I can make a proper meal out of, not without eggs or milk."

The music professor was perturbed at this revelation – he had been so certain that he'd perfectly orchestrated their honeymoon and their return home to be free of any glaring inconveniences, yet he'd managed to overlook a truly crucial detail. Silently, he berated himself for this lapse – how hard would it have been for him to arrange for Mrs. Paroo to come over and restock those essentials just before they arrived home? Still, there was nothing that could be done now, so Harold tried not to linger on that regret. "We're going to have to make that situation a priority, then. Do you want to go out and get something tonight?"

Marian pursed her lips and sighed, looking less than eager to pursue that course of action. "I don't think that I'm quite ready for us to make our public return to River City tonight," she confessed. "We had a substantial enough lunch before we boarded the train, at least. And I suppose we can get by on what's in your – _our_ – pantry until tomorrow morning. But for a little longer, I want it to still be just the two of us, on our honeymoon."

"True," Harold concurred with a rueful chuckle, absentmindedly stirring his tea. "All the congratulations will be a bit overwhelming, I imagine. Not to mention having to tell everybody we meet about what restaurants we ate at, where we stayed, what we thought of the shops and the shows…"

Setting her teacup down on a coaster, Marian stretched her arms languidly above her head and collapsed into the couch cushions. "And perhaps I'm just dreadfully lazy, but it sounds like such an effort to get dressed again, corset and buttons and all."

At that, Harold remembered something that he'd been meaning to bring up ever since he'd first come downstairs. "By the by, I couldn't help but notice the nice work that you'd done with the clothing we'd thrown off so thoughtlessly."

His wife's eyes lit up with a sort of fierce zeal as she sat up straight again – few things got her so riled up as the thought of willfully neglecting untidiness, and she considered it an almost sacred duty to set things to rights. "Well, I couldn't just ignore such a disorderly mess!" Tucking a curl behind her ear and averting her eyes ever so slightly, Marian looked a little flustered for a moment. "I… I wasn't bothered in the least _while_ it was happening, of course, but I could never leave clothes scattered all over my bedroom."

Her casual use of the word "my" at last was not lost on either of them, and Harold actually felt an immense sense of relief at hearing her say it.

"So, the librarian finally feels at home in a place when she can organize it to her liking?"

"It would seem that way, yes," she answered with a wry smile.

As Harold gazed fondly at his wife, the arms of her dressing gown billowing gracefully around her shoulders as she reached for her cup once again, a sly grin crept slowly over his face and he chuckled as another delicious realization came into his mind. Perplexed, Marian stared back, eyebrows raised.

"What on earth is so amusing?"

He wagged a teasing finger at her. "Well, I just realized something. Your clothes weren't unpacked at all yet. To find that dressing gown, you must have had to go searching through your belongings entirely naked!"

Marian groaned and gave him a petulant mock-scowl. "And here I thought that I could avoid humiliation by doing such a ridiculous thing when you weren't awake to see!" She allowed that scowl to melt into a triumphant smirk, however, as she ruminated further about the subject. "Though I imagine that your inclination would have been more to stare than to laugh."

"While I'm sure the sight was irresistible, you must remember that if I'd been awake, I would have found your gown for you," Harold pointed out in defense of his sense of chivalry. Then, unable to resist this prime opportunity to tease his blushing bride some more, he leaned in close, and, in his most seductive tone, murmured, "Would _you_ have stared?"

"No!" the librarian responded instantly with a gasp of scandalized laughter; but, seconds later, blushing furiously, she confessed into the depths of her teacup, "Well, _yes_."

He laughed heartily, leaning back and folding his arms in satisfaction at the information he'd gleaned. "So, you do, then."

"So I _what_?" she inquired with carefully-measured composure as she set down the cup and rested her chin on clasped hands, trying to offset the crimson burning in her cheeks.

"I mean that when I'm walking around in the altogether, like, say, when I get out of bed to fetch our bathrobes, you _look_."

His bride's cheeks darkened even further, but she was still playing at appearing cool and logical. "Well, I'm not blind," she responded succinctly, as if defending herself. "And the sight is – not unpleasant."

Marian was trying so very hard to look prim that Harold simply couldn't resist, and he pulled her right into his lap, grinning as he tightened his arms around her. "I adore you, do you know that?"

She giggled, finally dropping the act. "Whatever brought that on?"

"I love how honest you can't help but be – even about this sort of thing. It wasn't a week ago that you could barely look at me naked, but now you do, and clearly you like it," he answered, and though there was still teasing levity in his words, he realized that the information that she'd divulged in that moment of candor had eased a few of his own insecurities, as well.

Snuggling against him, she confessed in a voice so soft that her breath tickled his ear, "It's still all very new, but I'm learning, and, um… I enjoy the lessons."

He couldn't help but grin at her frank acknowledgement of her own blossoming passion. "You learn beautifully," he whispered back, his hands sweeping across her cloth-covered curves.

Barely a moment later, Marian sat up and turned to face him, a subtle smile on her lips and renewed desire burning in her eyes. Stunned, Harold wondered if his innocent wife even had any idea how suggestive her posture was, her lithe legs straddling his thighs the way that they were – his heart slammed in his chest as his mind whirled with the possibility of awakening some new facet of her passion and giving her pleasure that she couldn't fathom. There were so very many things he wanted to share with her that she likely couldn't even imagine yet, and he'd held a certain sense of trepidation that he might go one step too far and introduce his new bride to something that she found too wicked or indecent to enjoy. But, judging by the sweet honesty that she'd just shown him, he was certain at last that she was ready for something a little more adventurous, and he reflected on which of his fantasies she might enjoy the most, but that would still be agreeable to such an innocent woman. Maybe – yes, he imagined _that_ would go over very well indeed…

He was so enraptured by his idea that, as soon as she finally leaned in to press her gorgeous lips to his, Harold swept Marian right into his arms and made directly for the stairs, and she pulled back from the kiss with a delighted gasp.

Though there was still a hint of maidenly shyness in her voice, she was never more confident in his embrace than when she truly, desperately wanted him, and it was clear that, despite their earlier tryst, her ardor had not ebbed in the least. "I take it you have a 'lesson' in mind right now, _Professor_ Hill?" she asked, her hazel eyes dancing.

That was precisely what he had in mind, in fact, and he grinned at his wife with amorous smugness, anticipating with glee how very much she would enjoy learning of the particular delight he'd just decided was in store for her.

"A lesson or two," Harold assured her in a husky murmur – and then husband and wife left the empty teacups forgotten in the parlor as they returned eagerly to the bedroom that belonged to both of them at long last.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: The piano piece that Marian played, however briefly (about the first minute or so), was Debussy's First Arabesque. :)


End file.
